Also visit: rpandrewsgayfiction.com

Friday Night and Saturday Morning: II

Todd’s apartment was cramped and against the wall were moving boxes so maybe his story about buying that condo in cash wasn’t bullshit. He led me to the back bedroom where we both stripped down as he prepared the night’s magic brew. A few non-descript paintings decorated one of the walls surrounded by huge empty picture frames, mostly wood and ornate, sitting on the floor, and hanging from the wall.

“They’re art, too,” Todd replied as he held up a needle. From the poetic to the clinical. “Before I do your cock, wanna shoot up this time?”

Snorting the junk last time had burnt the inside or my mouth and throat so crazy me welcomed getting it straight into my system. I made a fist, he found a vein on my left forearm and in two minutes I was in Warm and Wonderful Wonderland where Tinsel tickled every square inch of my body. Next came the jab in my dick which I massaged in my hand – I was getting to be an old pro at this – as he shot the junk into his own arm.

For a moment as he slowly sucked my cock, both of us lying on the bed, I sitting up, this hunk of man nestled in my crouch, I thought maybe my fatigue and the two beers I had had earlier that night were going to interfere with my erection. But I was happily mistaken and soon that beefy, furry, manly butt of his was my cock’s dominion. .

Maybe junk is some kind of truth serum too, and makes you say things you never would otherwise though always wanted to, because I just blurted it out.

“ I know you’re not into LTR’s and neither am I, so I’m not saying this to impress you, but I’ve got to tell you our last time was the most sensual sexual experience in my life with probably the handsomest man in Lauderdale.”

“And I thought I was looking at him right now,” Todd replied, drilling right through me with those black eyes of his.

For the next hour or so we fucked and kissed and licked and sucked. Then as I was taking my third circuit at fucking him from behind, I could see he wasn’t responding to my usual dirty talk and actually starting to softly snore.

“You tired?”

“Had a rough week,” he replied. I wondered whether that had been in the office or bedding down and getting high with other guys.

But in a few minutes I realized my cock was no match to the Sandman and I gently pulled out and lay beside him on the bed, my dick, as hard as the Rock of Gibraltar, staring at the ceiling.

“You want me to leave?” I said softly before he drifted into Comaland.

“No, no, please – please stay.”

And I did. And not because I was hoping we might play later. I rarely spent a night in bed with a guy for three very pragmatic reasons: most were looking for drive-by, 7-11, slam, bam, thank you mam sex; I move around a lot in bed; and sooner or later my three little doggies would be wining at the bedroom door to come in.

So I took advantage of this sensual treat and for the next four hours, I just lay there, completely awake because of the junk (the fact Todd was asleep showed me he was getting immune and probably was taking it in larger doses to get the old high),not even clearing my throat so I wouldn’t wake him and just admired every inch of this beautiful specimen of naked manhood next to me when I wasn’t admiring my own hard-on which was good enough to fuck every guy in Ramrod on a Saturday night twice.

Around 7:30 he awoke and tried to get me off, but without success.

“I’m supposed to go to the beach today,” I said, “but with this boner I might get arrested.”

“I’ll give you two Benadryl. They’ll bring you down.”

I took a quick shower as he lay in bed, asked him what I owed him for the junk – forty bucks – and threw out the invite to do it again at my place soon.

“Sure, sure,” he replied with a smile that just couldn’t lie, but I know did.

“Oh, by the way,” I said, “Now I know why you’ll never have an LTR.”

“Why?” he smirked.

“You snore.”

And as I walked out to my car in the beautiful beginning of a warm, sunny day in my Lauderdale, knowing in my soul Todd and I would never play again, not wanting it to happen fearing where I would lead me, I mumbled, “Happy Birthday, Ray” to myself and held up my finger to those four guys last night who couldn’t find time for me.